


Dancing In my Storm

by bellamyhale (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 11:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11485242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bellamyhale
Summary: “Get up loser, I can smell your sadness from outside,” said Erica with no room for Stiles complaints or whining.“I don’t want to,” he complained petulantly anyways. They had a stare off for all of thirty seconds before Erica was rolling her eyes and pulling out a greasy burger bag from her purse. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles inspected the bag warily before reaching forward for it, but at the last second Erica pulled it out of his reach.“Come with me Stilinski, or no fries,” her voice was thick with mischief as she twirled and sauntered away with a clacking of her heels.Stiles considered ignoring her, curly fries be damned, but under better judgement decided to gather his belongings and follow after the fierce blonde.





	Dancing In my Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neaislove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neaislove/gifts).



_Stiles’ breathing was ragged as he scrambled closer to the wall. His jeans were torn and his shirt tattered. What remained of his shirt was splattered with his own blood mixed with alpha and beta spunk. His lips were kiss-swollen and bloody, causing every shaky intake to be accompanied by a stinging pain from the split in his lip._

_The two figures walked away drunkenly as the abused omega puked up whatever was left in his stomach. He couldn’t move, even to attempt to wipe the filth off of himself. As the seconds passed, the alley grew colder and even more miserable than before._

_“I told you he’d be good, bro.”_

_“What omega isn’t?”_

_Stiles felt his stomach churn again, and he couldn’t move fast enough to avoid vomiting on himself. It took nearly three hours before he could finally move. His legs were sore, and the pang that shot up his back caused tears to cascade down his face. Getting to his car was one of the most awful walks he’d ever had to endure. He vaguely registered the sound of his Jeep revving to life as he swerved out of the parking lot. Once he arrived at the apartment, Stiles felt  numb as he sat motionless in his car for god knew how long. It was a blur as his feet carried him up the stairs and into his lonely apartment. As usual, he dropped his keys on the counter and his bag onto the ground with a hard thud. His eyes brimmed with more tears and Stiles let them fall freely as he tried to make himself feel safe in the wave of his own scent._

_He stood in the shower for a long time, not moving until he had to. He felt like an abandoned building just after a tsunami. As the water cascaded down his spine, all of his escaped thoughts from earlier seemed to make their appearance at once. His sobs became hysterical as he crumbled to the wet ground. His shower lasted until his hands were wrinkled and his skin beet red from the scalding hot water. The entire bathroom was steamed, allowing him to avoid seeing his reflection in the mirror._

_It was a quarter past three when he sat on the cold plastic chair of the health room. Pamphlets and brochures about safe sex and the ‘glory’ of a mating bond and knotting surrounded him, taunting him. Every picture had a happy couple smiling at one another, their arms wrapped around one another lovingly. Stiles stared disdainfully until impulse took over, causing him to rip up a pamphlet and crumbled it._

_“Dr. Hemington will see you now,” the receptionist was clipped when she spoke, eying Stiles judgmentally from beneath heavily painted eyelids_

_Where he would ordinarily feel the urge to snark back, he found he didn't have the energy now. Nodding curtly, he ducked his head as he scurried to the exam room, throwing the pamphlet away as he went. The doctor greeted him cheerfully despite how early it was. His bright smile caused Stiles’ hands to begin twitching spasmodically. Their staredown lasted until Stiles finally looked away, shamefully submitting in defeat._

_“Mr-…Mi…My-”_

_“Stiles, ’s okay.”_

_The man set his clipboard down for a second to glance at Stiles. The man took in his fidgety hands and rapidly tapping foot. Lifting the clipboard up once again, the doctor studied over the charts on his clipboard. “Alright, Stiles, why are we here today?”_

_“I, uh…I think, I think something happened to me.”_

_“You think?”_

_“No, I know, I just…it’s hard to..to, uh, reflect on, that’s all.”_

_“Can you tell me what this something is?”_

_Stiles paused for a long time, just breathing. His heart was pounding and if the doctor was an alpha or another omega instead of a beta, Stiles was sure he could have heard it from miles away. Swallowing hard, he folded his hands in his lap to try and gather his thoughts instead of just letting his hands fidget around aimlessly._

_“It just happened and, uh. I…two guy ra-…they- I mean…” Stiles had to clear his throat once again before he could continue, “They forced me into sex.”_

_“Before, you said you think,” said Hemington, not even bothering to look at his clipboard._

_“Yeah, because my brain wasn’t computing a  few seconds ago. My words got mixed up, and I just said the safest thing that-”_

_“Is it possible that your words got mixed up at the time of the event?”_

_“Event?”_

_“Were you at a party tonight?”_

_“No, I was at the bar, but I don’t see how-”_

_“So you were drinking then?”_

_“Yeah, but I only had half a-”_

_“Do you remember what these guys looked like? Any significant traits they possessed that could identify them?” Hemington said as he finally picked up his clipboard._

_“They both had Alpha Beta Pi jackets on.”_

_Dr. Hemington slowly rested the clipboard back on the table as he gave Stiles the most sympathetic look he'd ever received. The man launched into a well rehearsed speech about how he shouldn't feel ashamed, or make up lies about what he wanted at the time. How it was okay to explore his sexuality in various ways, including three-ways if that’s what he wanted. Stiles felt repulsed and almost like he was going to vomit again. It_ _wasn't_ _what he wanted, he had said no, and he repeated his story with as much vehemence as he could manage, but the doctor circled the conversation back to pheromones or chemosignals, any number of things that must have declared otherwise that might have slipped out by accident._

_“I said no!” Stiles exclaimed with a mixture of anger and disgust in his voice._

_“And I believe you…but do you?” asked the doctor with that same sympathetic look on his face. “I’m…not saying that you’re making this up, but even if we did track these two boys down by scent, it would be two Alpha Beta Pi boys’ words against your own.”_

_Stiles was shocked into silence for the first time in his twenty-one years of life. He sat almost catatonically as Dr. Hemington listed all of the ‘reasonable’ options he could pursue. The man suggested group therapy or one-on-one counseling twice a week with Mrs. Collins, instead of going to the authorities with a not-so-solid case on his hands._

_The doctors prescribed Stiles with birth control pills and a plan B pill for his ‘just in case’ moments._

_Stiles left the building feeling even more defeated than when he walked in._

**TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER**

Holding the strap to his backpack tightly, Stiles ducked his head as he made his way through the dorm hall. A few people waved to him or attempted to talk, but he ignored them as he rushed to his room. A few freshman sat in the halls with lax, dopey smiles, surrounded by books as they squabbled over something that was most likely not homework-related. Stiles watched them for a few seconds before remembering that he had his own homework due for his criminology class. As his mind drifted from essays to criminal behavior, Stiles’ expression turned tense as he remembered the scumbag of the night. Last night had been easy.

It was probably one of the easiest nights he’d had in a long time, hell, he didn't even have to use his blade this time. Aaron Schmidt, alpha, resident asshole, and captain of the men's volleyball team. He had date raped Alicia McConahay last Tuesday and bragged about it to his frat bros. Naturally, word had gotten out that Alicia was an _easy_ omega, causing her once peaceful life on campus to spiral, as most of the male population on campus began to forcefully proposition here.

His shoulders slumped in relief once he entered his room, losing the tension he always carried with him these days. He had transferred dorms almost a year ago to get a new start with his life, and this new life _just_ so happened to include his new roommate, Danny Mahealani.

"You're home late," noted the other omega casually, not even glancing at Stiles as he scanned over the three laptops that decorated his desk. "I take it he was easy?"

Danny knew all about his wannabe vigilante antics. It'd been easier this way. Especially because Danny knew a bit more about hacking into databases than Stiles did. Don't get him wrong, Stiles was amazing at research and bugging mainframes, but Danny was on a whole new level when it came to hijacking surveillance systems and hacking into douchebags’ Twitter and Facebook accounts. Besides, it had been getting kind of hard to explain why he was out so late and sometimes came back with cuts or bruises.  

"Two broken bones and the dude is going to need a nose job ASAP. I threatened to chop his dick off and he legit shit himself. It was so gross, dude." Stiles’ feet dragged along the floor as he acknowledged his roommate. "You'd think that a big tough guy ballsy enough to rape someone and leave them for dead could handle a little surgery on his lower bits."

Danny snorted, halfway amused and a bit disturbed at the same time. "I'm just glad he got what he deserved. Alicia is such a sweet girl, and he really fucked her up. I heard she's transferring to a community college next semester."

Stiles folded his clothes and deposited his knives into a small box underneath his bed. Locking it back up, he slid it against the wall until it was out of sight. Standing, he looked over his shoulder at Danny who was packing his Mac away and taking his phone off the charger. Stiles watched him curiously for a few seconds before disappearing into the bathroom. His classes started after noon, and he didn't have to be anywhere anyways. Turning the shitty faucet on, he stuck his hand underneath the water, waiting for it to heat up.

"You know," said Danny, almost hesitantly, "you can...you can tell me anything, right?"

Startled by this sudden statement, Stiles looked up to see Danny leaning against the doorframe. His expression was open and filled with concern, just like all of the other times he’d tried to have this conversation with Stiles.

"Aww, come on, bro, you’re gonna make me pull out the tissue box. You know how I feel about soap opera tears," Stiles reprimanded in an attempt to remove the weight from Danny’s words.

“Stiles, I’m being serious.”

“As serious as a heart attack.” He turned his back to the older omega while he idly turned the water from cold to hot. Through the mirror he saw Danny opening his mouth, “Danny...I’m fine. You don't need to worry about lil’ ol’ me.”

Danny nodded slowly. "Okay...I'm going to head to class, try to get some sleep." He lingered there for a few seconds before slowly closing the door behind himself.

Stiles waited for their dorm door to open and then click shut before taking a quick shower and getting dressed for his day. Stiles thought about ignoring Danny’s advice, but ultimately decided that three nights without sleep was probably too much. He managed to sleep for a total of four hours and twenty-seven minutes, before waking, causing the urge of activity to  override his better judgment. Impulse and a couple of caffeine pills got half his homework finished in less time than he would normally take. With two essays on the brink of completion, Stiles stared at his slightly overheating laptop with squinting eyes and a growling stomach. Calling it quits for now, he decided that regardless of whether the papers ended up being awful—for him at least, which was still pretty fucking amazing— they would still get him at least a B. His English teacher, Professor Adams, hated it, which only encouraged Stiles to argue for the hell of it and cause even more of a ruckus in his class.

Pushing away from his desk, Stiles slid a pair of running shoes on before locking the door on the way out. He made a stop at Bengie's to get a coffee and muffin, then dragged his feet across campus to Tunezone, the campus's horribly named music shop. Pushing open the door, he huffed at the ridiculous jingle the wind chimes produced.

It really wasn't much compared to all of the bigger shops that surrounded the campus, but at least it was something. It had everything from the early Renaissance classics to the modern day mumble rap. Behind the counter was one Scott McCall, the gentleman alpha that had been friends with Stiles since their prepubescent years. Whether it was skipping classes in high school, or being really ambitious and stealing booze from the sheriff's cabinet while he was off at work, Scott and Stiles had always had each other's backs. Never a dull moment was on the horizon, either, when it came to them being together.

"Is that coffee?" Scott asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, it’s a cup," Stiles lifted the cup a bit higher for his friend to see, “that has coffee inside of it...possibly...maybe.” His smirk lingered as he got closer to the counter.

"Maybe?" Scott repeated with his arms crossed over his chest. "I think we need to reevaluate the definition of maybe around here, dude. Where's mine?"

Stiles took another long swig of his coffee before sliding the cup across the table to Scott. "Have it, ya crybaby. Got any good playlists for me today?"

"You know I could get into some real trouble because of this. Just letting my friend take music from the stores without a single purchase," Scott murmured while digging through his drawer to retrieve a flash drive.

"Thanks, Scotty-boy!" Pocketing the little disc, Stiles leaned heavily against the counter. "Been needing something new to dance to for a while."

He didn’t really have any desire to spend all of his money on an iTunes monthly plan or spend a dollar and twenty-nine cents every time he craved new music. He’d already gone that route and nearly went broke for a solid month. He also didn’t find it necessary to have a Spotify or Pandora account either, especially if Scotty here could hook him up for free.

“Theft! It's borderline theft, I tell you!"

Rolling his eyes, unamused, Stiles patted the counter a few times before standing upright again. "See you tonight?"

"Nah, Allison and I are helping Kira finish her article for the school magazine. She wants to cover the recent attacks that have been happening around campus."

"Ah, the grand tale of the alpha, the beta, and the omega. All mated to each other in perfect harmony," Stiles drawled out as he waved his goodbye to his best friend. "Later, dude."

When a quarter to noon struck, Stiles headed to his only class of the day. He managed to suppress his sigh of utter boredom as he sat with the other English minors. He tapped his pen against the table a few times before digging in his bag for his review sheet. A small bottle of heat suppressors slipped out along with his folder, causing a quick flush of embarrassment to surge through his body as he shoved it back inside the bag. His heart thumped obnoxiously loud against his ribcage, causing every fiber in his body to itch and ache and his hands to fidget once again. When not a single pair of eyes turned toward him, Stiles sighed, relieved, only to tense again when kaleidoscopic greenish-blue eyes lock onto him from across the room.

Bristling slightly, Stiles resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder to check if kaleidoscope-guy was eyeing someone else instead. Stiles stared ahead for a few seconds before subtly letting his eyes take in everything about the guy. Kaleidoscope had ‘frat bro’ written all over him — _big biceps covered by a not-so-loose Pi Lycaon jacket, paired with a stellar jawline, which was probably the only saving grace_ —. His train of thought came to a halt as he remembered his initial panic. Had frat bro seen him with the pills? Was that why he was staring? If so, what a pervy asshat.

Before Stiles could dwell on it any further, the TA began the opening announcements. With his shoulders hunched Stiles absentmindedly fidgeted, his fingers lightly tapping against the table as the TA’s shrill voice pierced his soul. The groan that escaped was completely involuntary, but the glare he gave her after she narrowed her eyes at him was absolutely on purpose. He tried his very best not to call it quits. He honestly did. However, it soon got to the point that Stiles wanted to jab a thousand knives inside his ear canal.

Slumping back into the seat, Stiles sighed softly, giving up for the day, as his pen tapped aimlessly against paper. He got nearly halfway through a beautifully rendition of a shooting star in pointillism when a slight itch on the side of his head began to discomfort him. Turning slightly, Stiles could see the frat bro from earlier still gazing at him with an intense look on his tanned face. A deep frown was prominent on the guy's pretty pink lips, and it almost distracted Stiles from the accompanying glare. Stiles stared back, refusing to be intimidated by the alpha. He knew what this was and he refused to back down. He snapped out of his mental pep talk when the Sourwolf mouthed a _'knock it off',_ causing a wave of confusion to wash over Stiles. He waited for a few seconds before Sourwolf elaborated by gesturing towards his tapping pen that Stiles hadn’t even notice.

Making a show of it, Stiles gave the pen one more loud tap before putting the utensil behind his ear. When he looked back to the frat bro, he stifled a snort when he saw an even deeper frown and even more dramatic eyebrows making their grand appearance. Stiles huffed and flipped a page in his textbook _,_ mouthing back _'deal with it'_ with a smirk and an eye roll as he turned his attention back to the professor.

He could feel the stare on him occasionally, and each time would resist the urge to flip frat bro-alpha off.  

What an asshole, he thought, sighing. It was going to be a long semester.

✨✨✨

“Well, don’t you look like a bundle of sunshine?” Erica said sarcastically.

“Have I ever expressed my immense hatred for silver-spooned alphas who seem to have misplaced their brains inside of their penises? If not, I have an immense hatred for silver-spooned alphas who seem to have misplaced their brains inside of their penises.” Stiles dropped his dance bag on the ground near the blonde girl before settling down to stretch out with her.

“Speaking of dick-for-brains, have you heard about Aaron shitty Schmidt? The guy had to go to the hospital last night, and people are already connecting it to that vigilante.” Her voice was high-pitched as the words rushed out in excitement, lips curled in a smile that was wicked, with just a hint of anger darkening it. “Serves him right for...for, you know...doing what he did to Alicia.”

“You think he did it?” he said with a practiced quiver of dread shaking his voice.   

Erica’s face went through a few emotions before stopping on one of fierce certainty. “I think that no omega would make some shitty story up about their quote unquote _innocence_ being stolen from them. Alicia might have been a bitch sometimes, but no person, omega or not, deserves that shit.”

Moments like this was the reason why Stiles loved Erica.

Her eyes inspected his face briefly before a comforting expression washed over her own face. “Hey, don't think about it right now,” she said as she squeezed his hand in comfort, scrolling through her phone before connecting her device and starting a shuffle. [“Look what I’ve been working on.”](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DxkUQP8YsgvE%26t%3D128s&sa=D&ust=1499891875611000&usg=AFQjCNEigWgkMY7ewCAr8N1V82JEotZj8w)

Stiles sat down, leaning back as “Slow Down Love” by Louis The Child started playing through the loft. The room was cleared like it always was when they were  prepping and learning new dances for their channel. Given that Erica had her own place off campus, it has seemed only logical that they would do all of their dancing here instead of throwing money away to rent an actual studio. The space they generally took up was a living room and a half, so more than enough room for the both of them and maybe a few extra people if needed. Their channel had reached a level of popularity that neither of them ever expected. Each video got at least half a million views in the first week, and they had upwards of 760k subscribers. So it was kind of important that they practiced so much.

Erica’s dance was amazing, as usual. By the time she had shown Stiles some of her favorite moves at least twice, they were both sweating from practicing the moves over and over again. They settled on a rough draft of the dance and decided to take a break to cool down their aching muscles.

“So, you know how you’re my favorite friend?” she drawled around a mouthful of bacon, lettuce, and tomato.

Stiles squinted at her as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. He set his juice box down along with his sandwich to give the blonde his undivided attention. “What do you want?”

Sure enough, Erica gave him a wicked smile that meant that he should comply with her every demand or suffer the consequences. “I met this scorching hot alpha today. He’s a frat bro, ugh, I know, but he seems really reserved and sweet once you get to know him. He invited me to a party tomorrow night, and I’d really appreciate it if you came with me,” she gushed.

“Erica, I don’t think—”

“I didn’t ask you to think, we talked about this, Stilinski. Nothing more, nothing less when I ask these favors from you,” instructed Erica almost exasperatedly.

Stiles looked at her, unimpressed as he took an angry bite of his peanut butter and jelly. “What if I told you I had plans tonight?”

“I’d call you on your bullshit and drag you to the damn party myself.”

“You don’t need me to wingman for you, Reyes.”

“Well, duh. If this goes as planned, I'll be getting laid tonight with the promise of breakfast in bed the next morning. I want you there for moral support in case my hot companion turns out to be a dick. Then you could throw a drink in his face for me while I make a grand escape plan.”  

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her and sighed softly. It would be a good opportunity to keep an eye out for all of the omegas there to make sure nothing bad happened to anyone. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if anything bad happened to Erica. “Fine, whatever.”

“Great, now get your cute ass up so we can actually record this bad boy!”

✨✨✨

         

Shocking nearly everyone he saw that morning, Stiles actually went to a morning lecture the next day. Sure, his hair was still in dire need of a comb or something, but at least he was there. He pulled out his tape recorder and notebook to at least look like he was about to take notes. Once he was sure that no one was paying him any attention, he also stealthily pulled out his phone, letting out an obnoxiously loud sigh as he scrolled through Instagram.

He liked a few things, but before he even had the chance to be sucked too far in, someone sat down next to him, noisily. Which, umm, no. Looking to his right, he nearly fell flat on the ground at the sight of the frat guy from the day before. His glare was not as prominent as it had been in the previous day’s class, and if Stiles focused closely enough, he could detect the slight fragrance of aftershave that he hadn’t been able to smell the other day.

“Dude…there are like a bazillion other seats you could have taken,” Stiles objected, instead of what he was sure would have been something stupid.

 _‘_ You’re in my seat _’_ was what he got as a response, causing his jaw drop. How childish could this behemoth be? Snapping his mouth shut rather than allowing the alpha a definitely unattractive view down his throat, Stiles schooled his own expression into a stubborn frown, doing his best to ignore the man until the stupid lecture was finished. The professor went on about the importance of economics in a professional setting, which only made Stiles regret coming to class this morning. He could have just read the damn book and gotten the same information in the comfort of his dorm room.

“You and Erica Reyes have that dancing channel, right?”

It's such a random question that Stiles almost gave himself whiplash from the speed at which he snapped his head around. The grump was staring at him, unimpressed, and Stiles had the urge to stick his tongue out at the guy. “Uh, yeah.”

“She said you’d be coming with her tonight. Told me you'd be bringing the stuff with you,” he whispered, his voice a low, hushed tenor sound that sent traitorous shivers down Stiles’ spine.

“Stuff?”

“You _know_ what I mean,” grunted Sourwolf, with an even grumpier look, if that was even possible.

“I don’t think you deserve it if you can't even say it, big guy.”

The frat bro seemed to be questioning his life decisions, because he blinked a few time before pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously annoyed. He grumbled something, and Stiles tried not to think too much about how the new emotion made the alpha’s scent change to the beautiful aftermath of a thunderstorm. His nostrils flared involuntarily and his body shifted a bit closer to the pleasant smell. The frat guy seemed to notice, because he turned towards Stiles sharply with raised eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

“Uhm…” stammered Stiles as a distraction. “Yeah, I’ll bring the stuff. Whatever. I know a guy that deals it to Delta Gamma when Lydia needs it. You know Lydia Martin, right? Of course you do, who doesn’t?”

People around them were packing up their things and leaving, causing Stiles to jump from his seat. He stopped the recorder and threw it into his bag along with his notebook and textbook. When he looked up, sourwolf was doing the same while still keeping an eye on him.

“Uhm…”

“I’ll see you tonight,” the words came out low and deep.

Stiles was left alone in the classroom, with flushed cheeks and a gaping mouth. His hands shook for a few seconds before he gathered himself and stomped out of the auditorium. He turned the corner and saw the guy climb into his ridiculously expensive sports car and drive off with a pair of shades on. With a snort and a shake of his head at the blatantly Alpha behaviour, Stiles turned his back and moved in the opposite direction.

✨✨✨

The party wasn’t the type Stiles thought it would be. Sure, there were still people grinding and dancing against one another, but there weren’t fancy lights strobing through the place or an enormous keg near the main entrance of the fraternity house. He and Erica squeezed through the crowd of sweaty bodies to get to the kitchen, where Stiles got himself two drinks as he dumped half of the weed onto the table.

“There is no way in hell that I’m doing this sober,” quipped Stiles when he got an odd look from Erica.

He downed both of his drinks and then three more in less time than it took him to lose Erica to her mysterious frat-bro. Stiles waited on the sidelines until it looked like they were both having a good time and Erica gave him her thumbs up. Letting out another sigh, Stiles set his empty cup on the table as he made his way out of the kitchen. He found himself pushing through the crowd once again, but this time he stayed in the center, allowing himself to just feel the music. Some trop house was playing, causing his body to move of its own accord. He let himself feel like he was the only one on the floor until a pair of hands grabbed at his hips, causing his vibe to crash and his blood to turn cold. Spinning around, his hand instinctively went for his back pocket where he kept his pocket knife, and he cursed under his breath when he found it wasn’t there. He took a few breaths, and after the initial shock was over, he finally saw who it was. Frat guy from class.

“Oh…you, uh, scared me…a bit,” stuttered Stiles, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal.

“Sorry…no, I should have asked first. Or at least made my presence known, I guess.” His eyes are blown wide, and Stiles could barely see the green slash blue in them anymore.

Stiles could tell the frat-bro was on some type of drug, which would explain why he seemed so loose and carefree all of a sudden. _So he’s a chill type. Huh, who would have thought?_ “Yeah, that would have been nice of you.”

“So, would you?”

Stiles was thrown off guard for a few seconds before he regained control over his senses. “Uh…how about we just go talk or something? Not really in the dancing mood anymore.”

“Okay,” frat-bro replied, unfazed by the slight rejection, “Let's go to the roof then.”

Stiles didn’t question it and just grabbed another drink. He downed it quickly and threw it away as stubbly-henley-Greek-God led him through the mess and up to the stars. His brain might have been a little fuzzy, and he was sure that if his common sense were working, he would be able to imagine exactly what his father would say about him walking on a roof while under the influence. It was a shame Daddio wasn’t there. They sat near each other and Stiles watched, intrigued, as frat-bro stared up at the stars with a curious expression. While frat-bro was busy ogling the night sky, Stiles decided to light up a blunt to pass the time. The first inhale burned, causing him to cough embarrassingly too long before he regained his composure. He tried again, and it was much smoother. He passed it to frat-bro, and the alpha just stared at it before inhaling and making a disgusted face.

“I’ll pass.”

“Well, that _is_ how this generally works, buddy. I mean how else are we supposed to—oh! You meant you don't want any. I thought…ah, forget it,” said Stiles, as he took another long drag. “I was wondering if you could do anything else with your face instead of your resting bitchface,” Stiles said, too drunk or high to even realize what he was saying. Frat-bro seemed shocked by his statement, or at least a bit offended, if the wounded look he shot Stiles was anything to go by.

“I don’t have a bitchface.”

“Yes, you do. It's pretty,”

It was silent for a few seconds, and Stiles could feel his own heartbeat thud as Sourwolf’s heart skipped a beat. He tapped his finger against his thigh a couple of times before looking away and pressing the end of the blunt against the ground. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He couldn’t remember himself being like this for almost three years now. He was actually blushing and openly complimenting a very attractive guy. Who, by the way, he didn’t even know the first or last name of. Running his fingers through his hair, Stiles turned to ask just that, but was shocked into silence as the frat-bro inched closer. He started to pull away but stopped himself with a sudden wave of determination.

He could be like his old self again. He could! He didn’t have to shy away from guys that seemed really nice. He didn’t, and he shouldn’t have to. He should—

He didn’t have time to finish that thought before soft lips were being pressed to his own. It wasn’t sloppy or rough at all, and it took everything in Stiles not to dance in relief. Frat-bro pulled him in gently until they are facing one another this time. Stiles melted a bit as a big hand moved to rest against his cheek. He kissed back softly, and when he needed air, he tapped his nose against frat bro's as he gathered his time to feel. He wasn’t aware that he was being moved until he was helping frat-bro open a bedroom door, leaving it closed behind them. Then he was being pushed on the bed softly before the alpha climbed on top of him in a not-so-sober manner.

“Derek.”

“What?” Stiles blinked very confusedly.

“’s my name,” frat-bro, _Derek_ , said as clarification.

“Oh.”

A mouth was on his neck now, causing all thoughts to disappear. When Derek pulled back _—after leaving what was probably an impressive mark on his neck—_ he reached into his bedside drawer to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom. He heard the wrapper opening, smelled the slick cheap lubricant, and suddenly he was back in that alley again, staring at the embroidered logo on a fraternity jacket so he didn’t have to meet the two men’s eyes. For a second, he expected it to happen again. For Derek’s soft and goofy smile to morph into _their_ ugly smirks, for Derek to take and take until there is nothing left. He felt awful and vulnerable, and tears leaked from his eyes just before he rolled over and vomited all over Derek’s floor. He could hear Derek making a disgusted noise, but passed out before he could even apologize to the man.

          

✨✨✨

When he woke up the next morning, he was very much alone. He rolled over onto his back, almost in a haze as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. It took him a moment to realize where he was. When he did, he bolted upright, hands grabbing the soft blankets draped over him. His brief moment of panic stretched onward as he caught sight of a fully clothed Drake…Daniel, no, Damon? The alpha seemed to be typing away on a paper, and the sight itself caused Stiles’ brain to short circuit. He was barely able to breathe again when frat-bro turned to him with a hint of a smile and a mug of tea held out to him.

“I…uh, called my sister, and she said coffee wouldn’t help your weedover, so I made you tea instead. I also have clothes you can borrow for the shower.”

Stiles stared at the man, more than a little perplexed, before he tried to get his shit together. Clearing his throat, he subtly checked that all articles of his clothing were still on before searching for his bag. He faintly remembered leaving it on the roof and panicked even more but relaxed when he saw it hanging neatly on Derek’s door. Stiles made a great owl impression for a few seconds before clearing his throat again.

“Uhm…thanks,” he said eloquently.

“The guys took the rest of the weed this morning, which got you about a grand, and I put it all in your bag,” Frat-bro said, of course catching onto the sudden stutters in Stiles’ heartbeat.

Not wanting to sound like an idiot or anything, Stiles just nodded and looked around him to try and change the subject. He worried his bottom lip slightly before his eyes landed on the paper the alpha was writing. “What…uh, what are you working on?”

“A paper for civil engineering for Finstock’s class. Need to finish it before next week,” said Frat-bro with a little shrug.

Stiles really needed to stop blinking so much, otherwise people would start to think he was crazy. “Is that what your dad or mom does, then? ’Cause, I mean, statistically it’s most likely that a kid will become what their parents are. Whether it's a cop or an engineer…which…you’re planning on doing, I suppose. ”

Sourwolf’s shoulders tensed as his mouth fell into a flat line. There was a long pause before the alpha opened his mouth to say something, but it was interrupted by the door opening and a flustered Danny barging in. He was panting and his eyes were bloodshot, which actually wasn’t a cute look on him. “St-stiles, something…I…you gotta—”

Stiles was out of the bed and by Danny’s side within seconds. He gave Derek an awkward, apologetic look before grabbing his bag and supporting Danny the best he could. “Uh…I have to go. Thanks for…last night,” he said with a light blush as he ushered Danny out of the room. They got down the stairs and safely through the frat house before they began the walk of shame back to their dorm.

“How did you even find me?”

“T-tracker…your phone,” sobbed Danny while waving a vague hand in the general direction of Stiles bag.

“Dude…what's wrong?”

It takes Danny a few minutes before he’s able to talk, “…Stiles I—it was so—yesterday, and nobody gives a _damn_ ! We went to the station this m-morning and, and…six hours, Stiles! Six _fucking_ hours while they moved us around without supplying an ounce of help. We ended up just leaving because it didn’t seem worth it anymore. Stiles, you gotta do something…”

The hysterics were building again, and Stiles pulled Danny into a hug as he partner in crime cried onto his shoulder. “Yeah…yeah, I’ll do it. It’s okay, bro…just…you gotta calm down enough to give me information on the shitbag, okay? I need a name and a schedule an—”

“Matt Daehler, that’s his name. Matt _fucking_ Daehler.”

✨✨✨

The sensitizer-spray was the first thing Stiles grabbed. It was a new bottle, thanks to his dad being overprotective about making Stiles as comfortable as possible during his heat weeks. In all honesty, he wasn’t even supposed to have the spray. It was technically banned from most colleges and seen as a medicinal drug that usually required a prescription. The only reason he had an abundance of it was that his heat was predicted to start in the next two months, and even with the suppressants his scent as still amplified. Also, John Stilinski could be a sly little shit when necessary. It was one of the perks of having a sheriff as a dad.

As the cold liquid misted over his body, Stiles began to notice his own scent morphing into nothingness. He sprayed his clothing and his bag as well, just as an extra precaution, before sliding out the window.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, the GPS on his phone started giving directions. His adrenaline was through the roof at this point, and there was no turning back after this. He got to the Alpha Beta Pi house and had to hold back his gag at the overwhelming stench of testosterone. There wasn’t a single sound, and all traces of light had vanished from the area. He followed the GPS all the way up a tree to the third floor. Peering through the window, he tried to make out any shapes or signs of life. Bright amber eyes landed on a lump on the bed and he held himself still for all of a few breaths before jumping into action. He got the window unlocked with his knife before sliding it open and ducking through. The figure under the covers shifted at the sudden rush of the wind through the room. Stiles’ heart stopped and then started again when Matt remained sleeping.   

_“How…how is she holding up?”_

_“Not great…a girl tried taking a picture of us for the yearbook, and the flash like…triggered her or something,” said Danny with a pinched expression._

_“You think he took pictures of her?” asked Stiles as he felt seconds away from vomiting._

_“Well, he is an art major.”_

Creeping along the perimeter of the room, he felt along the desk for any sign of a camera. He rustled papers and pens, but came up short of what he was actually there for. He moved on to the drawers and even went through the closet a little bit before going back to the desk. He worked his magic on Matt’s phone, charging near his nightstand. It only took Stiles three minutes to hack into the phone to search for the pictures. When there weren't any in his camera roll, or Matt’s recently deleted, Stiles gave up and put the phone back in its place. In a moment of frustration, he kicked the bed, causing Matt to bolt upright and Stiles to drop to the ground and roll underneath the bed.

He held his breath as best he could while trying not to move. Matt seemed to drift easily back into slumber, though, because seconds later the scumbag shifted in the bed and resumed snoring. Stiles let out a breath as he shimmied from underneath the bed. On his way out of the dust chamber, his leg brushed against a box and a heavy object. Pausing, he took a breath of clear air before sliding back under to retrieve the objects. Pushing the box from underneath the bed, Stiles followed after with a hopeful expression.

Lifting the lid, his eyes zeroed in on the black and white Polaroid photos. Some of them were of a smiling young girl, while others were of the same girl, battered and bruised, with her clothing ripped off.

Letting out a harsh breath, Stiles sat up quickly. Shoving the box into his bag, Stiles slung the bag over his shoulder gently before standing in front of the mirror. His mask and hood covered everything but his eyes, allowing him to take the Sharpie from his bag to write in all caps directly on the mirror.

**‘HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE SOMETHING STOLEN FROM YOU? SWEET DREAMS, MATT.’**

✨✨✨

Stiles watched his friends with a complacent smirk as he stole a long chug of Kira’s passionfruit tea. The sun beamed brightly against the fountain in the middle of the square, causing the water to ripple and shimmer as a soft breeze blew by. He watched as Scott’s hand ran aimlessly through Kira’s hair, Allison’s legs thrown across the alpha’s stomach. They were sickeningly cute, which is exactly why Stiles was more than thrilled that Erica had decided to tag along.

“You guys are gross,” he chided petulantly.

“Well, that's one way to put it,” Erica quipped as she sipped her slightly melted frappuccino, “...but I bet the sex is good,” she mused with an acute head tilt.  

Kira’s cheeks burst into flames as a wicked smile spread across Allison’s rosy lips.

Ally rolled onto her side and winked flirtatiously at the blonde girl. “You know it, Goldilocks.”

Watching the exchange, Stiles had to hold back a snort as Scott’s scent tinged with slight jealousy. Dumb alphas. Sighing in mild boredom, Stiles jotted down another idea for his thesis as the soothing rhythm of reggae music filled the air.  He was on his twentieth idea when a manicured hand snatched his notebook away and began to haul him to his feet.

“Come on, Batman,” said Erica.

It wasn't obvious what she wanted at first, but it all started to click when her upper body began moving at the almost constant tempo of streaming water. They start out freestyling like normal until a familiar song started [playing](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DQ50mCePtFmQ&sa=D&ust=1499891875656000&usg=AFQjCNFtlrezw9VEsFm_G12ENwWrSQenFg), causing one of their old routines to surface. They had already been accumulating a crowd, and as the song continued, the crowd only grew larger. Stiles didn't focus too much on them, though, as his primary focus was his movements and Erica’s. From the side, Stiles could hear Scott’s supportive cheers and whoops of encouragement as he got more and more people to come and watch. They continued dancing through three more songs until Erica became out of breath.

The blonde flopped down on the ground as she chugged the rest of her Starbucks, a contented look on her face. Stiles continued solo for another song or two before he followed suit. Slowly, the crowd of people dispersed as Stiles used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Like, comment, and subscribe! Their channel is DanceOn, NO SPACE!” crowed Scott with his hands cupping around his mouth. His smile was broad with glee, and nearly every ounce of his true excitement was intensified, per usual, at seeing Stiles dance. “Bro, that was great!”  

Stiles’ smile matched Scott’s just before he tackled his best friend to the ground. They wrestled around, knocking into one another until they were breathless and overcome with giggles. They took a short pause before rolling on the grass once again.

“Are they always this stupid?”

The new voices cause them both to jump and knock their heads together. Stiles groaned loudly as Scott flopped back down. Standing a few feet away from their little group were the boys of Pi Lycaon. Scrambling up, Stiles got into a solid stance, though he nearly took Scott out to get there.

“Only when there’s a full moon,” Allison said with a dramatic sigh as she watched Scott. Her brown eyes tracked his movements before flitting over to Erica, who was now embracing one of the newcomers. “You got a friend you wanna tell us about?”

“Only the hottest alpha in the world...no offense, Scotty,” Erica said as she let her fingers trail over beautiful dark skin. The guy nodded to them in greeting as he returned her embrace, holding her impossibly close. “Scott, Kira, Allison, this is Boyd and his friends. Boyd and friends, these are my friends Scott, Kira, Allison, and I’m sure you all remember Stiles.”

Stiles blinked owlishly at the group for an embarrassingly long time. The others had dived into conversations while he was stuck in an almost trance as his eyes locked with no one other than the sourwolf himself. With his still-flushed face, Stiles used the bottom of his shirt to wipe away more sweat when he vaguely heard Erica saying something about their dancing. It was an entirely unconscious action, but it ended up catching the attention of sourwolf.

Their friends talked amongst one another while he and Stiles engaged in a staredown. It was awkward for all of twenty seconds, before sourwolf’s eyes cast downwards and then back up in the all-too-familiar motion of checking Stiles out. The tension slowly drained from Stiles’ shoulders as a long forgotten sensation caused his insides to tingle. The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched upwards, and Stiles chewed on his bottom lip awkwardly as he felt his heart skip a beat. Looking to his side, he could see the others beginning to fall into their own groups. Taking a cautious step towards sourwolf, Stiles stopped when he was only a couple feet away. It was weird, but he couldn’t think of a reason not to.

“Uh...hey,” Stiles watched as Sourwolf’s eyebrows rose—judgingly, may he add—and he felt the burning urge to shave those fuckers off. “Sorry, for, uh, you know running out on you last time. Danny, the guy that barged in your room, had an emergency. I mean you could probably tell because of all the crying and hysteria, but if you somehow, you know, didn't grasp that, then yeah.”

“Is he okay?”

Stiles staggered a bit at the sincerity in the sourwolf’s concern. With squinted eyes and a now slightly quicker heartbeat, Stiles’ eyes roamed over the alpha’s expression. “He’s...yeah, he’s good now. Just...relationship issues.”

He sees the way Sourwolf’s shoulders tense as his expression turned dark and broody. The bulkier male stepped back ever so slightly, and Stiles found himself wanting to make that somber expression disappear forever.  

“I mean, his relationship issues. Not mine, I mean, I don't even have a relationship. Like at all. Who’s single? This guy! Like if there were a contest for being single, I wouldn't be allowed to enter because I'd be too qualified to participate. Also, it would be really shitty of me to like...kiss you and shit while still in a relationship. Like, I mean, I’m an asshole, yeah, but I’m not that much of an asshole,” Stiles rambled within one breath. “Oh! Also, I never really got to check to see if you got all of my bodily fluid off of your floor. Which again, I solemnly apologize for. I usually don’t vomit…while kissing, or at all, really, now that I’m thinking about it. Guts of steel right here, I tell you. It’s like this one time in first grade, me and my buddy Scott found this squid and—shit, I’ll shut up now!”

He was breathless by the end of it all, and when he finally caught his breath, it was to hear the sourwolf fucking snickering at him. Stiles squawked almost indignantly as the laughing continued. _Fuck you, you attractive dickhead_ , he thinks. Well, at least he thought he had, though the look Sourwolf was giving him suggested otherwise. Stiles’ throat went numb, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see Erica and Scott throwing him knowing smirks. God, he hated his friends.

“Well, that was just—”

He was cut off by the chime of his phone and he looked at it in surprise. Pretty much everyone he ever talked to was with him at the moment. Stiles knew it wasn’t his dad, because despite having a smartphone, the man still refused to text. It couldn't have been Danny, because the other omega was still in classes at this time. It only dawned on him what was happening when everyone around him also started getting messages. He couldn’t believe he forgot his own plan. Grabbing his phone from off his bag, Stiles opened the message only to see a video of Matt sleeping in his room. Pictures were scattered all around him as the alpha on the screen snored away. The video played on a constant loop with a simple caption underneath it: “I’m coming for you, Matt.”

“Shit.” It was Allison who was the first to say anything. “I bet campus security is flipping out just about now.”

“I think it’s about time. Matt has been asking for his ass to get handed to him. Whoever this alpha is, the guy is doing a service for us all,” a curly-haired blonde kid asserted.

“Sexist much? What makes you think the vigilante is an alpha, let alone a guy?” challenged Kira. Her Wonder Woman shirt seemed to stick out even more as she glowered at the sheepboy. “It could easily be a girl or an omega.” Her nose was raised high as Allison peppered her shoulder with kisses.

Stiles smiled fondly at the comic book nerd, ’cause honestly, bless Kira’s soul. Allison and Scott had better never even think of causing her harm, or Stiles would take them both down without a single ounce of regret. Stiles watched as Kira and Erica teamed up against the guys to argue about the identity of the vigilante, finding it all quite amusing. Hell, he even laughed at the possibility of the vigilante being a perky blonde with daddy issues.

“Well, while this has been fun, we gotta get back to the house. Come on, guys,” a guy with a sharp jawline and dirty blond, short-cut hair said, already beginning to lead the way.

Two of the others followed after him after a few short goodbyes, but Boyd and Sourwolf hung back. Boyd was clearly waiting to get a very NSFW kiss from Erica, who just smiled innocently once it was over. Stiles watched, amused, as Boyd staggered back slightly until one of his bros caught him.

“Derek, come on, bro!” the curly-haired dude shouted, already yards away.

Turning to his right, Stiles saw Sourwolf, Derek, standing a bit closer than before. His cheeks were blushy pink, and Stiles could swear his scent smelled like the beginning of spring. Ducking his head a bit, Stiles boldly lifted his fist to bump against Derek’s shoulder.

“You should go...bro.” It was awkward, and Stiles regretted it immediately after saying it.

Derek’s eyebrows did something impressive once again before the alpha was smiling slightly and jogging off. Stiles did his best not to watch him as he left, but was sucked into watching the glory of Derek’s back muscles working under his t-shirt nonetheless. An arm casually wrapped around his shoulders, and before Erica could say anything, Stiles flipped her off.

✨✨✨

Stiles caught Matt alone a few days later, walking home from a late night class. He snuck into action. Crouching in the darkness, he followed after Matt until he got in a darker area where the lights had long since blown out. Somersaulting, he sliced the back of the douchebag’s thighs. Matt let out a wail and staggered a bit as he whirled around to swing an instinctive kick towards Stiles’ face.

“Think again, bitch,” Stiles said through the voice modulator under his mask as he quickly dodged and pulled himself into a fighting stance.

He punched Matt in the face, and the weak piece of shit fell to the ground immediately. Groaning softly Stiles glared-- _what was his face made out of, Jesus_ \--and shook his hand, trying to will away the pain. Bending over, he grabbed Matt by the collar of his shirt and held a knife to his neck.

“Don’t make a sound,” he said before kicking him in the crotch. Matt groaned, and Stiles crouched to his level before digging the knife into his neck causing a few beads of blood to appear. “What did I say about sound?”

The cut on Matt’s leg wasn’t healing, and Stiles smirked as panic rose in the alpha’s eyes. All of his weapons were laced with wolfsbane, which allowed the injuries he inflicted on his targets to last for at least two weeks.

Lifting Matt’s head off the ground, he placed a loose piece of fabric in the alpha’s mouth, tying it in place as a gag. Then he twirled the knife around in his hand before stabbing it in Matt’s upper thigh and leaving it there, letting the cloth muffle his screams. Taking his time, Stiles punched him twice in the face before letting his head fall back onto the ground. Stiles then rose and stood to Matt’s side, lazily grabbing his arm. He steadied himself for a few seconds as he pulled and turned sharply until he heard an all too familiar pop come from Matt’s arm. Matt yelled into the rag, and Stiles waited a few minutes before pulling his knife out of Matt’s leg.

“Do you remember making Deja Williams feel like this, Matty boy? Do you remember hearing her begging to stop while you just continued to rape her? Huh?!” Stiles yelled, causing Matt to whimper in pain and fear. “Did you get off on her fear? Well…now you fear me. If you ever go near her or any other omega without their consent, I will be back. This was a warning. Next time, I won't be so nice.”

He yanks the cloth out of his mouth then. Taking the photos he had made before this occasion out of his bag, Stiles tossed the pictures of a sleeping and naked Matt around on the ground. He grabbed his can of red spray paint and outlined Matt’s body as the disgraceful alpha fell unconscious. Just above his head, he wrote in bold letters:

**‘HERE LIES A RAPIST AS A MESSAGE TO ALL OF YOU OTHER SCUMBAGS. #JUSTICEFORTHEFUCKEDOVER.'**

When campus security found him the next day, Matt made the front page, and the school accepted Deja’s court request.  

✨✨✨

Cracking his knuckles, Stiles squinted heavily at his halfway revised paper. The music blasting from his headphones kept him focused enough, as yet another hour past of him being in the library. His third cup of coffee was nearly finished and very much cold as he chugged the rest of it in one gulp.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles ran a jittery hand through his birds nest of a hairdo. He sets motionless for a odd few seconds before creating a new tab, and checking twitter. His home page was flooded with tweets about Matt and the campus vigilante, and Stiles didn't know if he was supposed to be happy or apprehensive. Scrolling past a few tweets, he nearly died of laughter when he saw all of Kira’s tweets about it. After liking a few of the really ridiculous mems and rants, Stiles  closed out of it altogether as he forced himself it get back to work. He lasted a total of twenty minutes before dropping his head against the wooden table. His mind was swimming, the only thing that was keeping him conscious was the beautiful strumming of a guitar and Ed Sheeran’s voice.

_‘Knock, knock, knock’_

Bolting upright, Stiles nearly toppled over at the sudden intrusion. At the last second he managed to grab the edge of the table with his right hand successfully stabilizing his tilted back chair. His left hand however was halfway inside his back pocket to retrieve his pocketknife. With his heart still pounding and cheeks more than flushed, Stiles blinked his blurry eyes until Derek’s sheepish smirk snapped him back into reality.

He’s so caught off guard that when Derek starts talking he forgets to even take his headphones out. Hurriedly yanking one bud out of his ear he offers his own sheepish smile, “Sorry, what?”

“I sit here,” Derek’s voice was laced with amusement and from the bags underneath his eyes a bit of tiredness as well. The alpha didn't even wait for Stiles’ reply as he just plopped his books and bag down on the table.

“Bazillion other seats...could have taken any of them,” Stiles said. He could almost see Derek’s brian slowly remembering their first real meeting causing Stiles to feel all mushy inside. “What? No big party right now?”

“...It’s noon,” Derek replied putting his book down for a second. He sits watching Stiles for a few seconds before digging through his bag for something.

“Exactly, aren't those things called nooners or something? Personally, I’ve never been to one, but i've heard from Erica that at least one fraternity has a secret nooner nearly twice a week. So, is it that you guys just don't partake in the nooner lifestyle, or is this some _‘what happens at the nooner stays at the nooner’_ bullshit?” Stiles fidgets behind his laptop, his eyes looking at Derek expectantly.

“Did you just reference Fight Club, to a nooner?”

“Ah ha! So you do know what a nooner is? That’s so cool man!”

“Do you always talk this much?”

“It’s a gift.”

The look Derek was giving him was every ounce of perplexed confusion with a pinch of annoyance. A look that Stiles was very accustomed to by now. Stiles leaned further onto the table to get a peek at what Derek was studying, his own homework long forgotten.

The room around them stayed perfectly still while the two of them tested the waters around one another. Derek was a bit more hesitant than Stiles, of course, but it didn't mean that the alpha didn't at least try. Derek asked all the right questions to get Stiles to ramble away. He asked about his friendship with Erica and Scott, then a question about his dancing, and before he knew it he was talking and laughing so boisterously a girl with short cropped hair shushed and glared their way. Stiles grinned and fluttered his eyelashes at the girl until she huffed and relocated.

“This is one of the reasons why I thought you were a brat when we first met.” Derek said with no real bite in his voice.

“Mmm, sounds about right. Believe it or not, someone's said those exact words to me.”

“Who would’ve thought,” he drawled with a small smile threatening to make an appearance.

“I know right? How could someone resist all of this natural charm,” Stiles’ voice oozed with sarcasm, but his smile remained light and happy.

“Um, speaking of which...would you want to—”

Putting his laptop into his bag Stiles got his phone out to check the time. His eyes widen briefly as his hands scramble to gather all of his belongings. “Shit, hold that thought?” Stiles interrupted with an apologetic look. “I was supposed to meet Danny an hour ago! The dude is going to kill me, and it’s going to be all your fault Derek.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah…” Derek’s face fell slightly before becoming suddenly stoic.

“See you later?” Stiles was on his feet again, with his bags over his shoulder and books held securely in his arms. “Maybe another party or quote unquote study session?” Much like Derek’s entrance, Stiles didn't wait for a response as he was already jogging off.   

✨✨✨

When Stiles saw the sourwolf again, it was after he and Erica were leaving their ‘studio’ for a break. They were walking down the street searching for a place for some grub, when they bumped into Boyd and Derek.

“Babe! Fancy seeing you here,” she asked with an eyebrow wiggle, like seeing her boyfriend wasn’t what she’d been wishing for for the past twelve hours.

“Derek…” said Stiles as he ignored the grossness of the couple beside them. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, his eyes scanning over Stiles’ everything.

Stiles had the urge to hide or throw an emotionally flustered punch but decided against it when Derek honest to god blushed and looked away like he got caught stealing from a cookie jar. He felt Erica’s elbow jab into his side, and he shot her a glare to knock it off.

“Welp! I need a little couple’s time with Boyd here, so we’ll just leave you two alone for a few minutes,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she slapped a kiss on Stiles’ cheek before skipping off with a more than complacent Boyd.

Groaning slightly, Stiles let out a puff of air as he fixed the baseball cap on his head. Looking over to Derek, he found the man still staring at the ground like the cracked pavement is the most exciting thing in the world. Taking pity on the goof, Stiles relaxed his shoulders and decided to be at least a bit friendly.

“Did…sorry I left so suddenly the other day. Something just came up and I had to—”

“Do you want to go on a date?”

Stiles choked a bit as the words hit him hard. “Definitely wasn’t expecting…well…that.” Derek was now blushing harder than before, which was just _not_ okay when Stiles’ sanity was already in question. He took a few breaths and tried to figure out a logical explanation for this situation. “But…but I _violated_ your floor with _vomit_!”

“It was gross…yeah, but it was also… _cute_.” Derek grunted the last word out like it genuinely pained him to even say it.

“I think you meant to say disgusting.”

“Painfully endearing then?” Derek supplied, shocking a laugh from Stiles. The alpha looked close to preening at the sound. His hands found their way into the pockets of his ugly shorts as he smiled sheepishly down at the floor. “I mean…you don’t have to, obviously. I’ll gladly take what little dignity I have left and go. I just…I would really like the chance to create some more painfully endearing moments…with you.”

Stiles gawked at Derek with flushed cheeks and a pounding heart. Taking his eyes off the sourwolf, Stiles gathered his bearings before letting a nervous smile spread across his face. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the return of a disheveled-looking Erica and Boyd.

“Raincheck? I’ve just discovered a new thing about my boo and would _really_ like some alone time to investigate it.” She gave Stiles little time to protest as she handed him the camcorder and dance notes. “We can finish up tomorrow?”

“Actually, I have—”

“Great, love you!”

Boyd and Derek said their goodbyes through fistdabs and meaningful looks before Boyd and Erica escaped towards their sexcapade. Stiles stared after them with a slack jaw and his brain apparently frozen. He heard a throat being cleared behind him, and spun abruptly to see Derek standing there, scratching the back of his head. He realized that he hadn’t given an answer yet, causing his cheeks to tint scarlet.

“Would a movie be considered a real first date? I mean, I know people do it all the time, but I mean, what real kind of experience do you get out of it? You can't really talk through it, ’cause that would just be fucking rude. So you both just sit there in silence for two hours hoping the other person doesn’t judge your taste in filmage.”

“Is that even a word?”

“I doubt it.”

Derek’s smile was blinding, and Stiles could _feel_ his own heart skip a beat.

They got something to eat first and surprisingly it went more than well. Derek was a bit unhelpful with the talking portion of the date, but Stiles was more than able to fill in that gap. Time seemed to slip by them as they both went through cup after cup of coffee, topics flying left and right as they followed random tangents. However, after a while, the sweat from dancing earlier started to really bother Stiles,  his arms seeming to stick to whatever surface they came in contact with. Derek appeared to sense his discomfort and offered for them to stop somewhere to get changed. Stiles hesitated a bit but nodded in agreement, allowing Derek to take his sticky hand and guide him to the frat house, since it was geographically closer.

Following Derek up the stairs and back into the same room from three days ago, Stiles actually took the time to look around. It was cleaner than he remembered, no papers littering the desk and the area around it, and thankfully the pungent smell of vomit was nowhere to be found.

“I can't believe you didn’t tell me I had pit stains,” Stiles sulked as he pulled the collar of his Batman shirt away from his neck.

“Well, you were working out, I thought you knew,” Derek deadpanned. “The movie starts at ten, and it’s supposed to get a little cold so…” He searched through his drawer until he pulls out a long sleeve Pi Lycaon shirt.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“Does it look like I _kid_?”

“Aww, don’t be like that. I’m sure with just a little more pizazz and slightly less grouchiness you could pull off a lot more things besides being a sourwolf,” Stiles said with maybe a bit more sarcasm than necessary.

Derek’s eyebrows lifted to monumental heights, and Stiles could already tell he was going to have trouble with those fuckers later on in life. The alpha presses the baggy gold and blue shirt his way, causing Stiles to groan almost petulantly as he stomps his way to the bathroom.

“I look like a pledge,” said Stiles as he stepped out with his arms held out. “And not the ones that look like they have an actual chance. No, I look like fucking shark bait, Derek. That’s what you’ve dressed me as. I hope you’re proud.”

“I never thought I’d be attracted to the dramatic type.”

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times. Again, he found himself at a loss for words thanks to this broody-attractive-charming-asshole. He clenched his hands around the ends of the cuffs dangling over his fingertips and said with narrowed eyes, “I never thought I’d be into the sourpuss type.”

They stared each other down for what seemed like less than five seconds before dissolving into fits of giggles.

When they got to the movie, the place was packed with people, mainly because it was opening night for the new _Kong: Skull Island_ film and everyone and their grandmother was there to see it. Seeing that it might be impossible to get seats there, they settled on seeing _Power Rangers_ instead.

Stiles didn’t know what he expected, really. Maybe for Derek to get fidgety and borderline ready to ditch him once he finally decided that Stiles wasn’t really worth it? Whatever it was, he didn’t expect for Derek to use the clichéd arm-over-the-shoulder move while simultaneously offering him some more popcorn. Stiles found that he was barely able to pay any attention to the movie, as he was too distracted with the warmth radiating off of Derek’s bicep. Stiles also spent a lot of time stealing glances at him whenever Derek made a particular noise or unconsciously squeezed or pulled Stiles a bit closer. Stiles would always move back into it and would then have to basically force himself not to preen at the implied affection.

When the movie ended, they waited until the final credits before slowly strolling out of the theater. Their hands were clasped together, their fingers loosely intertwined. It felt ridiculous, to say the least, but it was also like Stiles was being born again. Like…maybe he could start again…eventually.

“Yo, Hale!”

Turning around with Derek to the new voice, Stiles didn’t think much of it at first until he saw who it was. Instantly chills ran down his body as time seemed to freeze. It was _him_ . And the sick thing about it was _he_ didn’t even seem at all fazed by seeing Stiles. Instead, his eyes traveled up and down Stiles’ figure shamelessly, with that same disgusting smirk on his faces. Stiles thought he’d be sick.

“Stevenson, hey.”

Stiles’ insides withered as the familiarity and friendliness in Derek’s tone registered in his ears. He hated the bright smile that spread across Stevenson’s face, as he and Derek exchanged bro-hugs. Looking away from them both, Stiles peered behind Stevenson to their third present person, Matt Daehler. Matt looked a bit worse for wear, with bags under his eyes, a cast on his arm, a black eye, and a consistently jittery look that made Stiles insides buzz in satisfaction.

“You ready for Cassidey’s party next week? It’s supposed to be wild,” he said with an innocent shrug. “You should bring your guys along. Especially your friend here. I know Mike would love to see all of you before he transfers” his tone wasn’t rude at all, but it still sent chills down Stiles’ spine.  

The names Stevenson and Mike rang inside his head, almost haunting him. Stiles felt nauseated.

“We’ll think about it,” Derek grunted with a light shoulder shrug. His arm found its way around Stiles’ shoulder as he not so subtly scented him.

They exchanged a few more brief words before Derek was excusing them. The other alpha simply waved his goodbye as he continued inside the theatre. Stiles' hand felt twitchy, and he had the urge to dropkick the nearest thing to him. He rolled his shoulders and tried his best not to look murderous.

“Sorry about that, Stevenson and I went to highschool together,” said Derek, his eyes still locked onto the retreating figures of the alphas.

“Yeah…” Stiles said halfheartedly as his finger twitched one last time.

✨✨✨

It had been six weeks, meaning a total of twelve study dates and seventeen actual dates. Stiles had to admit that it had been fun…not feeling lonely. He spent most of his time at the frat house now with Derek and some of the other guys, like Boyd, Isaac, Liam, and sometimes even Jackson. Some of the guys there recognized him from his YouTube channel, and Stiles didn’t really know how to process that information besides just avoiding serious conversation with those select few. Scott and Danny had been taking the shit out of him for it for weeks now, teasing him about how he should just become a pledge already. Stiles had retaliated by hacking into their phones and rearranging everything, so the devices were basically nonfunctional anymore. It had taken Danny three days to fix his, and Scott was still struggling.

He was currently lounging on the Pi Lycaon couch with his copy of _Les Misérables_ in his lap. It was a thick book, but he was sure he could at least get through half of the second book before the stupid football game was over. He was almost finished with book one when a hand landed in the center of his page.

“Is this a book? What are you doing with a book?” Jackson asked, attempting to pull the object away from Stiles.

Stiles shoved his hand away and nudged the asshole away with his foot. “I’m reading. I’m sure Lydia explained to you what that verb means when she had to demote you to the dog house.”

“Are you being mean to Jackson again?” asked Derek, coming up behind his boyfriend to rest his hands on his shoulders. “Why are you reading?”

“That’s what I fucking asked him,” Jackson said, completely ignoring everything Stiles had said.

“You not having fun, babe?” Derek moved around the couch and rearranged them, so he was sitting beside Stiles with his arms wrapped around him within the second.

His eyebrows were drawn together in a Derek expression that Stiles recognized as concern. Refraining from correcting Derek on the _‘babe’_ comment, Stiles let a small laugh slip out as he moved the book to the side as he put a little space between the two of them. “A baseball fan sits in a frat house watching a football game. Somehow I feel like that’s the beginning of a bad joke.”

“Or just an excuse to be lame,” yelled Isaac from across the room and raised his glass to Stiles when the omega flipped him off.

“This is why Boyd’s my favorite. I hate all of you,” said Stiles as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Would you still hate me if I told you I told Dan to bring back some curly fries while he’s on his run for food?” Derek’s nose nuzzled against his jaw, causing Stiles to tilt his head to the side.

They’d been going really slow, like molasses slow, and Stiles loved that Derek respected that, but cuddling and scent marking had been things that Stiles had been surprisingly okay with.

“Curly fries?” he repeated as he sat up straight.

“Mhmm, was going to make your favorite,” said Derek with a knowing smirk, “grilled cheese with curly fries, but since you hate me, I guess I’ll just forget about it.”

“You are one manipulative man, Derek Hale, and I despise it.”

“Lie,” Derek said with a dopey smile as he leaned in for a chaste kiss followed by a short nose rub that had the bros around them to gag. Derek pulled away enough to flip them all off with both hands.

“Shut the hell up, I can't hear the game, bro,” one of the many guys in the room said over all the commotion.

“We’re going to lose anyway, bro. I’m just excited for the first day of pledge week to start. Once the game is finished, all the new recruits will show up, and it'll be real game time.”

Stiles listened intently to the exchange, and then turned to Derek, who was happily sipping his protein shake. He didn’t want to assume, and Stiles knew Derek wasn't like that. However, he was still skeptical about the rest of them sometimes. He thought about it for a bit before deciding to just trust Derek to not be anything like the Alpha Beta Pi dickheads.

✨✨✨

“Dude! You're not even listening to me!” Kira cried as she shoved the school magazine into his face. “I’m trying to show you my art!”

“Don’t mind him, babe. He’s just bitter and boyfriend deprived,” Allison teased with a warm smile as he ran her fingers through Scott’s hair.

“Ooh, you’re defending your girlfriend's honor now?” Stiles said, sticking his tongue out at them, “and he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Though I may be small …” said Allison with her fist held up boldly.

“That’s my baby,” Scott said fondly, reaching over to steal a chip from Stiles, “but seriously, Kira’s work is sick, and it would be so popular! Just think about it. Everyone loves a good superhero something in their lives, and a vigilante going around campus defending rape victims that the school doesn't want to help is right up that alley. This could be a frickin’ movie, bro!”

“Mhmm...whatever you say Scotty-boy,” Stiles drummed his fingers against his thighs. He gave them all unimpressed looks before going back to editing his and Erica’s next [video](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3D7MsXwbZvE58&sa=D&ust=1499891875618000&usg=AFQjCNFozkpDnm7OEmMn5nct8wLhL4q1nA). With his fingers hovering over the keyboard, Stiles tried his damndest to focus but could will himself to do so. He gives the whole concentration thing one more go, but is saved by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

 

**3:37 pm || From, Sourwolf the Sourpuss:**

_Come over_

 

Letting out an astounded snort, Stiles purposefully typed a bunch of gibberish just to slowly delete it all, knowing how much Derek hated those little ‘still typing’ dots. He sets the phone aside for a solid three minutes before replying.

 

 **3:43 pm || To** , **Sourwolf the Sourpuss:**

_I can't really tell if that's a question or a demand, but i’m on my way! Maybe when I get there we can work on your usage of punctuation? (see above message for example)_

 

**3:35 pm || From, Sourwolf the Sourpuss:**

_Ha ha._

   

“Mmm boyfriend calling?” Allison taunted with a devilish smile. Her howls of laughter was all Stiles could hear after he flipped her off and made his retreat.

Taking his usual route to the frat house, Stiles drags the walk on for a while just enjoying the fresh air. Surprisingly enough, the campus was almost vacant as he walked. The only people out were the students in sports, and the few select group of friends just hanging out. Stiles doesn't pay much attention to them aside from the brief glances as he passes by. He’s only caught off guard when he hears a high pitched whistling sound. His head snaps up in the directions of a beefhead of an alpha trailing leisurely behind a very uncomfortable looking omega. Her head was ducked down as she held her hoodie closer to her sides. Taking a step closer, Stiles was then suddenly hit with a strong wave of the omega’s heavy heat-filled scent.

“Where you going baby? Isn't it a little late for you to be out all alone? You could come back to mine if you need some company,” the guy leered as he and the girl turned a corner.

Every instinct in Stiles’ body boiled as he swiftly followed after them. In the back of his mind Stiles knew logically he should not do half the stuff he’s thinking of doing to the guy. However, if he didn't do anything wouldn't he be just as bad as the creeper? Following them closer, Stiles was just about to give the guy a piece of his mind when Stevenson seemingly appears out of nowhere.

“Shane, bro, you are way too high to be trying to pick up omegas.” his words were playful as his hand anchored his friend to his spot. “Sorry about that miss. I should have kept him on his leash.”

The girl seems to hesitate for a few seconds before she’s thanking Stevenson, and then running off. Hopefully to a safer environment. Stiles watched her leave until she eventually pushed open the door to one of the dormitory buildings. He’s about to quickly escape when a rough hand bumps against his bare arm. Recoiling, Stiles’ breath catches as his eyes lock with Stevenson’s icy blue ones.

“Hey, uh...before you go I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Stiles was rendered speechless as the burning sensation of tears threatened to spill out. Opening his mouth a few times, he tries to comprehend what was actually happening. Was this guy _serious_ ? Did he actually think an _apology_ would fix three years of damage. That Stiles would go back to normal after a simple _‘I’m sorry’_? What kind of fucked up bullshit is—

“I know me knowing Derek must make you feel really guilty.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles’ brain short circuits.

“You know...since we had sex. I’m sure it’s pretty awkward for you, and I can understand. It’s been weird for me as well, but what I really wanted to say is...I’m glad he’s happy you know,” Stevenson’s face broke into a genuine smile at this point, “Baseball season is starting again which means he and I are going to be hanging out more, and I know it would be beneficial for him and the team if we could put this behind us. Hell, maybe we all can hang out sometime.”

Stiles let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, and minutely nodded his head like he actually agreed to what Stevenson was saying. He tried and failed not to flinch away when the alpha bumps his fist against his shoulder. Stevenson chooses this moment to take his leave, which in turn allows all of Stiles’ tensed muscles to somewhat relax.

His phone buzzed violently in his pocket a total of three times before his shaky hands finally received it. Three new messages from Derek appear on his screen, and Stiles was seconds away from replying to one of them when he gets a call instead. “H-hello?’

_“Stiles!? What happened? Is something wrong?”_

In the background he could hear keys jingling and the soft clutter of commotion, like Derek was getting ready to leave. It’s only then does Stiles realizes that he’s lightly sniffling into the phone while a few stray tears slip from his eyes. Cursing under his breath, he cleared his throat as he attempted to gain control. “Uh, actually I have to raincheck on coming over. Something came up.”

_“What? Why, did something—”_

“I gotta go,” his voice is clipped as his thumb shakily ended the call. In his mind he could picture Derek’s hurt grumpy face glaring at his phone like it personally offended him. And just as he thought, it only took Derek another minute before he calls again. Stiles let the call go to voicemail twice before he finally shuts down his phone. He stared at the black screen helplessly for god knows how long, before he found the strength to walk home.

✨✨✨

Stiles had been avoiding a lot of people. At first it was only Derek, but now it was nearly his entire social circle that was feeling the wrath of his cold shoulder. He hasn’t been dancing, and the only real social interaction he’s encountered recently was the brief comments between his professors. If he was being rational about it all, he would admit that this behavior wasn't the healthiest. In fact, the amount of vigilante activities he’s pursued in the last 48 hours is borderline insane.

Stretching out on the library's carpeted floor, Stiles winced a bit when something audibly cracked in his lower back. His phone chimed with yet another text from Danny, followed by a stream of texts from Scott. Pushing his phone further away from him, Stiles groaned as he snuggled further into his onesie. To add onto the chaos of it all, he’s pretty sure his heat is due to happen within the next few weeks. Therefore, requiring him to either stay dormant in his room and face Danny finally, or go home and miss out on his classes. Either option sounded terrible to him. Stiles was seconds away from falling back to sleep when a shadow loomed over him. Blinking an eye open, Stiles groaned in annoyance when he saw Erica standing there in her heels with her hands delicately placed on her hips. Her foot was tapping impatiently as she glowered down at Stiles like he was the dirt under her nails.

“Get up loser, I can smell your sadness from outside,” said Erica with no room for Stiles complaints or whining.

“I don’t want to,” he complained petulantly anyways. They had a stare off for all of thirty seconds before Erica was rolling her eyes and pulling out a greasy burger bag from her purse. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles inspected the bag warily before reaching forward for it, but at the last second Erica pulled it out of his reach.

“Come with me Stilinski, or no fries,” her voice was thick with mischief as she twirled and sauntered away with a clacking of her heels.

Stiles considered ignoring her, curly fries be damned, but under better judgement decided to gathering his belongings and follow after the fierce blonde. Luckily for Stiles, the library wasn't that far from Erica’s home. Dropping his stuff on the floor just a few feet away from the door, Stiles stretched his limbs out. He takes his shoes off and relaxes as the soft carpet shifts between his toes as he walks further into the studio.

“You’re a real asshole you know? I’ve missed you, we’ve all fucking missed you, and you didn't even care,” Erica said, slapping him on the back of the head before pulling him in for a hug. “I thought you were kidnapped or something.”

Stiles wrapped an awkward arm around her waist for the briefest of seconds before stepping away. They end up sitting a few feet away from one another on the couch. Pulling his knees to his chest, Stiles sighed in a sad attempt to rid himself of his exhaustion. They sit in silences for a few of the longest and most uncomfortable seconds of Stiles’ life. He waits anxiously for Erica to say something, refusing to be the one to break their façade first. Five minutes and a phone chime later gave them their mood changer. Digging in his front pocket Stiles tapped the new notification. Seeing the name shanehuck_bro sent a wave of bad vibes down his spine as he thought back to that night with Stevenson.

“Eww, I'm so glad Boyd isn’t a part of Alpha Beta Pi,” Erica said dropping her phone back on the couch as she reached for the remote. “Such pigs...who despite their grossness throw killer parties.”

Stiles stared at the picture for a few more seconds before pressing the power button. The picture was captioned, _‘come one come all to_ _Alpha Beta Pi! Omegas on us. Baseball, Beer, & Party!’. _Above, was a picture of that same omega girl from two nights ago, passed out on a bed with a few beer cans surrounding her.

✨✨✨

After constant nagging from his friends, Stiles found himself at the frat house a few days later. His hands were sweaty as he knocked on the door, almost praying that the guys were out partying or something. However, seconds later when one of the brothers opened the door Stile shad to come to terms with his ultimate demise. Emotional confrontation.

“Uhm...is Derek here?” he asked with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah...and you are?” the guy said eyeing Stiles up and down in an awkwardly crude type of way.

“Greenberg, who’s at the damn door?” Derek shouted, coming to the door and stopping when he gets sight of who it was. “Stiles…”

“Hi,” he replied bashfully.

The silence that hangs in the air was almost enough to make Stiles run for the hills. Derek shifted his weight to his left side, while the Greenberg guy, stood between them with a dumb look on his face. Stiles was seconds away from getting rid of the kid himself, but thankfully Derek said something before he could.

“Hey, how about you go back inside for a bit,” Derek said with his eyes still trained in on Stiles. “I think I heard Boyd calling your name earlier.”

Stiles watched the exchange with mild interest, but it faded as soon as he and Derek were finally alone. He doesn't know what he was expecting to happen, but he didn't expect for it to feel so awkward. Rubbing an uneasy hand over his goosebump stricken arm Stiles averted his eyes to the ground. “Well this isn’t awkward at all. Ten out of ten would recommend.” Glancing up, he’s greeted with Derek’s unimpressed expression. The other man starts to back up towards the door causing a stream of panic to drown his sarcasm, “Wait! You can't just-”

“I can't...what? Leave? _Disappear_? Cause it’s exactly what you did.” Derek’s voice was clipped and filled with so much emotion. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Recoiling a bit, Stiles looks at Derek with widened eyes. He knows that Derek isn't wrong, but it doesn't make the truth hurt less. “I...I know alright, and I know that blowing up at you and just vanishing from existence wasn't the nicest thing to do. A lot of...the things I've done have probably been giving off...mixed signals.”

“Like running off, not letting me touch you, ignoring my calls? Yeah, I've noticed.”

Looking back at the ground, Stiles tucked his hands inside his pockets to stop his fidgeting. “Uhm...yeah, those actions in particular…” with his eyes still trained in on the ground Stiles let out a sigh. “Look, I'm not great at the whole relationships thing yet. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. There’s...a lot of things fucked up about me, and none of that is fair to you. But...what's really not fair is...even though I'm giving off those mixed signals, it does not mean that I don't want you. Cause I do. I want you a lot actually.”

Derek was silent.

Looking up abruptly, Stiles flushed scarlet as he started edging backwards. “I mean, unless you’re over it. In that case we can just forget this most embarrassing moment in my life, and just go our separate ways.”

Before he could get past the last step, a hand shot out to pull him back in. Gasping, Stiles stumbled forward until he collided against Derek’s chest. In a matter of seconds Derek’s arms are wrapped around him securely, almost as if he was scared Stiles would disappear again. Letting his own arms fall loosely around Derek’s shoulders, Stiles let out a shaky breath as he allowed himself to melt into the embrace.

 ✨✨✨

For some godforsaken reason, Stiles’ lone invitation for Scott to come with him to the baseball game meant _nothing_ to his best friend. Nothing, because twenty minutes from gametime Scott, Kira, and Allison were standing at his door with school spirit painted on their faces. Stiles gawked at them for a few intense seconds but couldn't get a word of protest in before all three of them were ushering him out of the house. From behind he could hear Danny wishing them a goodnight and locking the door behind Stiles. The traitor.

As they arrive at the crowded field, the group of friends strategically maneuver their way to four seats in the bleachers. Scott and Kira, had been the ones to go get snacks while he and Allison held down the fort. Around them, everyone was buzzing with anticipation with this being the first game of the season. Almost everywhere he looked there was at least one person chugging a can of beer that had managed to sneak its way in through security.

“You planning on seeing Derek tonight?”Allison asked as she bumped her shoulder against Stiles to grasp his attention.

“Well he is playing tonight. It’ll be pretty hard to miss him,” Stiles said, ignoring her stare and scanning over the players on the field. As he continued to survey the players he caught sight of Derek and Stevenson chatting as they warmed up near one another. Stiles felt as if a  sudden cold shower washed over him until a large Baja Blast gets held in front of his face. Looking up to see Scott’s blinding smile, Stiles takes the drink with a soft thanks as he puts his attention back on the crowd of people instead.

“Did we miss anything? Any jock drama transpire while we were off steamy in the terrain of hormonal young adults?” Kira asked popping a handful of gummies in her mouth.

“Stiles was just telling me about how much Derek stands out to him,” Allison said with a teasing smirk on her face even as Stiles shoots her a glare. “I can't say I blame you. He doesn look hot in that uniform.”

“Speaking of hot,” Kira said, as the cheer squad made their way to the center of the field, and in the middle of them the beautiful Lydia Martin. Her strawberry blonde hair in a tight ponytail as she leads the squad into a seductive dance number. “How is she so perfect?” Kira whined as she bites the head off of a gummy bear. Beside her Allison hummed in agreement.  

It only takes a half an hour longer before the game starts, and when it does everyone was on the edge of their seats. The beginning of the game dragged on like most baseball games did. The first few innings had little to no action which gave the crowd time to socialize and eat _—drink—_ their time away. It only got interesting when Boyd, junior pitcher, was up to bat. The first two swings were a miss causing everyone in the stands to sit with their insides vibrating. The whole stadium waited in silence as Boyd positioned himself to swing again. The crack that sounded throughout the diamond was all the crowd needed before they were on their feet cheering. The ball soared through the sky and safely passed the homerun zone. Derek, who was on third, cheered as he leisurely sauntered his way to home plate. The crowd went wild and even Stiles couldn't contain his excitement after that.

The game ended 10-3 with their team winning. Stiles had rushed to his feet along with the bazillion other people in the stand, and cheered as loud as he could. Gathering all of his stuff, Stiles followed after his friends as they attempted a swift exit into a less populated area. They settle for all but a few seconds before following the crowd of people to what appeared to be the Alpha Beta Pi, party.

As always, as soon as they entered the house, people were bumping and grinding against one another to the obnoxiously loud thump of the music. Stiles weaved through the crowd with Kira, Scott, and Allison until they found a safe place just outside the kitchen. Stiles’ foot tapped violently against the ground as he peered around them with an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

“Why are we here again?” Stiles asked with his arms crossing over his chest.

“Because your boyfriend just won a game, and this is where the team decided to throw the party,” Allison replied with a wink as she had Scott go get them all beers. “Also, Erica would kill us if we didn't show up.”

Stiles was just about to reply, however, instead of words he yelped as two arms wrap around his waist from behind. Aiming his elbow backwards, Stiles hits whoever it was in the head allowing him to escape the hold. However, as the oh so sweet scent of warm rain forest trees hit him, he immediately regretted his actions. “Shit! Dude, what the hell did you do that for?! Are you okay?”

Derek, still a bit stunned from the hit, blinked owlishly at his boyfriend for a few counts. He only snapped out of it when Stiles’ hand brushed over his forehead and through his still sweaty hair. The alpha stared dazedly into Stiles’ eyes for a few seconds longer before a throat was cleared from behind Stiles.

“Uhm, yeah i’m good,” Derek said, as he politely greeted Stiles’ friends, “I’m glad you could make it. For some reason I didn't think you would.”

“And miss out on an amazing  game? I think not.”

Before Stiles knew it, his friends were far from sight as he was left alone with Derek. They had managed to migrate through the party to stop and talk somewhere in the livingroom. Derek was raving about the game, and Stiles listened with a soft smile on his face. They exchanged opinions on the different plays and discussed what could have been better about the team's dynamics. Derek’s head was tilted down ever so slightly as his hand kneaded the covered skin just above Stiles’ waist. Stiles leaned into the touch with fevered cheeks as he rested a hand on Derek’s chest to keep at least a bit of space between them  

“I’m going to go get us some drinks,” Derek said against his ear before stepping back slightly. He gives Stiles’ hip one last squeeze before he’s disappearing into the crowd.

Stiles waits for a few minutes, before he’s wandering off to even more secluded areas in the house. Cases of beer lined the walls along with various other objects. Tiptoeing around the mess that was there, Stiles wandered over to the shelf that had a stash of party snacks. Stiles admires the selection while his hand absentmindedly rubbed over his stomach, before he’s reaching up to grab a bag of hot cheetos.

“Want help with that?”

Whirling around in one clean movement. Stiles dropped the chips to the ground as his breathing caught midway. Hunched over in the doorway stood none other than Stevenson. His smile was lazy and even from the distance between them Stiles could still smell the indication of alcohol on the alpha. Stevenson smirked cunningly as he sauntered towards Stiles. Backing up until he was pressed against the wall, Stiles clenched his fist tightly by his side as he felt his body tensing and locking up.

“I saw you when you walked in. Has anyone told you how great those jeans fit you?” He said and as he got closer Stiles could pick upon the faint scent of weed, “I know...I said we should put it in the past, but...I don't know if I could let you go, baby.” Stevenson used the back of his hand to stroke against the side of Stiles’ face.

Stiles turned his head away from the touch as he opened his mouth to stutter out his objections to what was going on. He didn't want this.What he wanted was Derek. He attempted to move, but all that happened was Stevenson pushing him more against the wall and shushing him. Stevenson’s hand went south as they hoisted up the front of Stiles shirt, and at the moment Stiles finally regained control of his body.

Shoving the alpha away, Stiles was in tears as he gasped for air. Stevenson attempted to speak once again, but Stiles interrupted by shoving him once again, this time against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

“Stiles, what the-”

“Shut up!” he rasped out before shoving a hand over Stevenson’s mouth and bracing his forearm against his chest. “You’re going to listen. Let me get one thing straight. I told you to stop, and I told you no, and you did this. You put your hand over my mouth and you...raped me.”

Stevenson wiggled trying to break free, but Stiles’ grip was strong. His words were muffled as he said,“What are you talking-”

“I am not done! What you took from me wasn't yours to take, and the fact that you thought it was sex for one second is disgusting! And you thought that I’d want to do it again? I don't think I’d want to do anything again because of you. All I feel is...emptiness, and I’ve tried everything to get rid of it. I’ve-I’ve lied to myself, to my friends, and I’ve..I’ve smiled and pretended like it was okay...and saying that I was going to run away, and I've done everything I could except this! Which is tell you how alone and broken I feel watching you with Derek like nothing ever happened. Because you don't care like I do, and I hate you for that...and I-I envy you for that.” His breathing was chopped and he could barely see through the sheet of water that was covering his eyes. “And I just, uh, thought you should finally know.”

Stiles stayed in that position for a while, even as his grip slackened and the tears stopped flowing. His hand hand fallen off of Stevenson’s mouth, but they were still in a close enough distance as Stiles debated if he should punch the alpha or not.

“Stiles? _Stiles_ , where are-” Derek stops in the doorway with two solo cups in his hands as he takes in how close Stiles and Stevenson were. Derek’s wounded eyes catch on Stiles’ hand that was splayed on Stevenson’s chest.

“Derek…” Stiles breathed out as he stepped away from Stevenson.

“I knew it.” Derek said suddenly as he let the cups drop to the ground, “I knew something happened between you two, but I never understood. But now, now that it’s right in front of me...”

“No, you don't- wait!” Stile starts, but is too late as Derek storms away. Forgetting all about Stevenson, Stiles rushed after Derek with a desperation he wasn't aware he could posses. Pushing through sweaty bodies, Stiles frantically searched, but in the end Derek was long gone.  

✨✨✨

Within the next few days, the whole campus had gotten word of Stiles _‘steamy affair’_ with Stevenson. The alpha had created the story of Stiles being a clingy omega who he had sex with once before that now wouldn't leave him alone. Stiles had attempted to set the record straight a few times, but it only lead to near fist fights. Aside from his small group of friends, no one talked to him unless it was to make some snide remark about his character. What really pissed Stiles off was hearing the people who didn't even know Derek talk trash about him. He wanted to scream, maybe even cry a bit as his already messed up life seemed to descend deeper into hell.

Stiles passed by a table of chattering friends who were all hovered over one of their phones. On the screen was a picture of Stiles from one of his dance videos with the caption, ‘Open and Ready For Alphas’. Stiles stopped to look at them, and immediately they hid the picture as if it wasn't still saved in the phone's gallery. Pulling his backpack higher on his shoulder, Stiles cleared his throat as he held his cup of coffee tighter and rushed out of the café.  

✨✨✨

By the fourth day, Stiles had stopped showing up to class. By the second week, the only thing that got him out of bed was beating a rapist to a bloody pulp. Danny was trying to help, but it was futile.

✨✨✨

Stiles climbed through the window of his and Danny’s dorm with his mask and hoodie still on. With all the evidence still fresh and sticky on his skin Stiles dropped his bag to the ground with a thud.

“What the hell?!”

Glancing to his right, Stiles pulled his mask down around his neck so he could talk without the voice modulator. “Go back to bed.”

“Stiles, what did you do?” Danny’s voice was frantic and slightly frightened as the pungent scent of blood filled the room.

“Getting justice,” said Stiles with his voice raised but not real emotion in his eyes, “It’s what he deserves, it’s what I do.”

“No, this is not what we do,” The room fell silent as Danny tried piecing his thoughts together. Danny watched in horror as Stiles stood boldly in the face of his ridicule. It was like Stiles didn’t even care that he could have possibly killed someone. “God, just look it your face! You’re just covered in his blood. We talked about this Stiles! We talked about healthy outlets for your emotions. Like talking to me...or anyone! Scott, Erica, Kira….or any one of us! You know what? Maybe if you actually went to support group-”

“This is the only way I feel alive! This is the only way that helps stop them turning other omegas into someone like me!”

“You think you can just...hide behind that mask and pretend that everything is okay? You have to deal with what happened to you, and if support group doesn't help then fine, but you have to do something. This darkness that's inside of you is just going to grow bigger and stronger, and then what? Huh, you gonna’ beat someone to death?”

Stiles had all the emotion of wet concrete, his facial muscles just as loose. There was no anger, no sadness, no fear or resentment. He never even appeared bored as stood in front of Danny with his hands limp at his side, that at least would have been something. For all the presence he brought to the room he might as well have been a store mannequin.

“I-I...wish I could take away your pain, and reverse everything that's happened to you,” Danny continued in a much softer tone, “...but I can’t. But I can tell you that I’m scared….and I just want you to be better. But I can’t be the one that heals you okay, and for that I’m sorry.”

Stiles shifted from foot to foot as his expression remained stoic, “y-you, uh, you wanna fix me? That’s _so_ sweet. Handsome little popular boy wanting to be my savior. I don't need you Danny, I never did. You _invaded_ my life like a disease, and you push and hover and meddle into my life because outside of partying and getting fucked by alphas, you don't have a life of your own!”

The silence lay in the air like poison, waiting for one of them to make a move. Stiles breathing was still erratic as he now stared wildly at Danny. When it all became too much, and there was no need for any further action. Stiles let out a shaky breath before quickly changing and disappearing through the window, all while avoiding the tears of betrayal that were streaming down Danny’s face.

✨✨✨

It’s been half a month since Stiles has slept in an actual bed. Instead, he’s been living in the booths of 24 hour dinners and occasionally the floor of the public library. He hasn't showered properly and the overpowering scent of lavender soap from public restrooms soaked his very pores.  His phone hasn't been charged in equally as long and no one has tried reaching out to him otherwise. Stiles was alone, and he didn't blame any of his friends for not wanting to find him. He understood.

It was nearing midnight when the next shift change took place. The waitress and cook punched out together as the next rotation flooded into the dingy establishment. His eyes lingered on their friendly exchanges and the pain in his chest grew a size bigger. As they left, soft pitter patter began tapping against the window Stiles was resting on. Sitting upright, Stiles squinted through the blurriness until he could see the rapid rippling in a nearby puddle. Before he knew it he was on his feet and headed out the door.

Stiles stepped into the rain. In seconds his clothes were drenched and his skin wet. Instead of running for cover his mouth curved into the most delicious smile. This was providence. His prayers were answered. Even just a few yards from the door he could be anywhere at all, the world was just blurs and nothingness. Tilting his head back, Stiles let out a deep exhale as the downpour pelted against his tensed muscles. His arms spread to his sides as he thought about twirling, but is clashed back to reality when forceful arms wrap around his waist. Letting out a startled scream, Stiles thrashed but wasn't able to get free.

“Aren't you pretty, baby,” a voice said against his ear as the person continued to drag Stiles off the street. “Gonna take real good care of you.”

Stiles let out another blood churning scream, and if he wasn't so shaken he would have been able to hear tires screeching to a stop. Giving another violent attempt of freedom, Stiles landed with a thud on the ground as his elbow connected with the side of the guys face.

His body went on autopilot after that. Getting into a crouch he swung his leg out to trip the guy to the ground. The man grunted in pain as his back smacked against concrete, but Stiles didn't stop there. Getting to his knees, Stiles hovered over the guy as he began delivering punch after punch. Frightened and angry tears mixed with the rain as the man’s blood began pouring from various parts of the guy’s face.  

“No! You don’t get to do this!” each word was punctuated with a punch to the probably unconscious man’s face. “Once was enough! I hope you rot in hell, Stevenson! You don't get to ruin me anymore!”

“ _Stiles!?_ ”

Even though he heard his name, Stiles didn't stop as he continued punching. All he could see was Stevenson’s smug smile from those many nights ago. At this point his fist were aching, and the only smell he could detect was blood and rainwater. He doesn't stop even when he begins to hear the sickening cracking of bone. His fist continue to fly and they only stop their assault when he tackled away from the man. His brain spazzed as he attempted to yet again get away from the second attacker. He only eases when he catches sight of kaleidoscope green eyes and beautiful black hair. Derek settles him fairly quickly, and before Stiles knows it, he’s crying into Derek’s chest.

They sit in the rain, just holding onto one another until thunder begun to rumble above their heads. When the first strike of lightning illuminated the sky Derek made it his mission to get Stiles safely in the Camaro. Before Derek could get too far, Stiles made the offhand comment of his tuff still being inside the dinner. At first he didn't think the alpha heard him, but was proven wrong when Derek immediately rushed into the building after buckling Stiles in. When Derek got back to the car and started driving, Stiles doesn't even bother to act curious as to where the alpha was taking him. He was too emotionally wounded to really care, and despite how firmly he’d deny it, Derek always managed to give off a certain ease that relaxed Stiles to no end. He’s only suddenly alert and aware of his surroundings when Derek parks and helps him into a building that he recognizes as the Pi Lycaon frat house.

With stumbling feet and soaked clothing, Derek managed to get them all the way up the stairs and down the hall until they reached his room. Stiles, fortunately, had stopped crying and was now staring off into space as he stood in the middle of Derek’s room. The rain on the outside continued to attack the earth, and the only thing that was keeping Stiles sane was the raindrops that repeatedly thudded against the window.   

From his peripheral, Stiles could see Derek moving around, and even if he knew Derek, he still kept an eye on him. His nerves were frayed to the quick. In his building anxiety he constructed elaborate game plans for a quick escape, but still the nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Derek was something that was somewhat safe for him. So, when Derek handed him a change of sleeping clothes, Stiles took them with little to no hesitation. Stiles opened his mouth to thank him, but before the words could slip out Derek was out of the room.

✨✨✨

The next morning Stiles wakes to having Boyd and Derek talking heatedly in the corner of Derek’s room. Stiles lays there unmoving as their hushed yelling began to meet his ears.

“He _attacked_ someone! We should be reporting him, not letting him sleep in our house for fucks sake,” The voice was gruff and deep, and Stiles recognized it as Boyd’s.

“No, it wasn't like that. Why aren't you listening? The guy was going to hurt him Boyd, hell, or at least try to. He probably would have if Stiles didn't defend himself.”

“I just think that we should-”

Before they could continue arguing Stiles bolted upright with unease clear in his scent. He throws the covers off of him and makes to get off the bed, but freezes up when Derek rushes towards him. Stiles stares wide eyed at Derek, and all three of them are silent even as Boyd made his exit.

The silence put Stiles on edge, and as it drew on he felt like crawling out of his own skin.

“I know,” said Derek.

Stiles head snapped up at those words which caused a mixture of panic and confusion to take over. Stiles refused to talk, in fear of giving out extra information, so, instead he waited anxiously for Derek to continue.

“Danny told me. At first I thought he was just making excuses for you.” Derek started with concern in his eyes, “But then….then I actually see you beating that man to a bloody pulp, and I realise that he was actually telling the truth. Stiles...you can’t just go around attacking people like this.”

“People?” Stiles mouth moved on its own accord as he distanced himself from Derek, “those...those _monsters_ aren't people Derek! Do you even know why I do what I do? The whole vingelate thing.” He pauses only slightly before continuing. “These _people_ , every single one of them, are rapists. Disgusting, cruel, and vile abominations that...that don't even get so much as a flick on the wrist after they ruin someone's life. They get to roam around campus with happy smiles on their faces as they live their lives feeling fucking invincible while us victims are the ones that get publicly shamed for being raped, and i’m sick of it!” Stiles body was trembling with emotion as angry tears threatened to spill out.

The silence that invades the room was thick.

“Stiles…”

Derek’s voice was softer than before, and the sound of it made Stiles’ insides churn. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head as he made a beeline towards to door. He gets all but a few feet away from the exit when a pair of arms wrap around his chest. The initial struggle doesn't come as Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and falls back into the embrace. Stiles’s could feel his brain working at a million miles an hour even as he wished for everything to become numb. The traitorous tears make their appearance once again as Stiles’ breathing picks up causing little hiccups to escape.

The two fall to the ground together. With Derek sitting with Stiles’ back pressed against his chest, and the feeling of Stiles’ sobs shaking both of them.

✨✨✨

The next couple of weeks were a daze of impossibilities made possible. Stiles decided then and there that Derek and all of the frat guys were his new favorite people. It had started off the day after Derek found about about, well, everything really. After that, Derek was non-stop about bringing Stiles justice. Together, they told all of Stiles’ friends the truth about what happened between him and Stevenson. Scott was the first to break into tears when they all heard the news. Scott had cried and cried until all that was left was a whimpering mess of an alpha with his omega best friend comforting him, reminding Scott that it wasn’t his fault. Stiles had to also have Scott promise not to tell his dad what happened to him. Stiles didn't want to deal with any of that just yet.

Derek had been by his side through it all, and Stiles was immensely grateful for that. He doesn't think he would have been able to tell them otherwise.  

It had started with that. Then it was lead to his and Danny’s make up. Once again, Derek was the one to set everything up. What was later revealed, Derek had went behind Stiles’ back to contact Danny to come over and talk. Turns out, Danny wasn't even mad about what happened between them. What Danny was really concerned about was how Stiles was doing mentally and emotionally. The conversation had lead to more tears, but this time happy ones.

Another thing that happened that he never believed would actually work...was therapy sessions. Well technically his support group session that he was supposed to go to almost two years ago. The first time Derek, Erica, and Scott had went with him. It was uncomfortable and every bit of awkward you could think of. Stiles remained silent for most of it the first couple of times, but around the second week of it he finally opened up. And _shockingly_ the sessions proved to be working at least a little bit. However, he knows that there is only one thing that would really help him. At first… he thought that maybe beating the living hell out of Stevenson would work. He wanted to. Hell, he still wants to, but he knows now that violence on violence only results in more violence.

“Are you sure about this? I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to.” Derek said as he kissed the back of Stiles’ hand.

They were standing outside of the police department. Stiles in a nice shirt and slacks with Scott and Derek standing by his sides, one on his left and the other on his right. Taking a deep breath, Stiles shook his head and reached up to kiss Derek’s cheek. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

“No….no I need to do this,” Stiles said as he stared wide eyed at the big glass doors.

“We could come back when you’re ready,” Scott tried for reassuring, but Stiles could see that his best friend wanted to do this just as badly as Stiles wanted to.

Inhaling slowly, Stiles gathered every ounce of courage before he takes his first step. Just walking up the steps makes his breathing rapid and shallow. Stiles could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. It's a relief when he gets to the front desk, because between the spinning vision and his legs shaking, Stiles is afraid he’ll trip. The secretary looks up and the words are out of his mouth before he could chicken out.

“I’m here to report a crime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if it the ending seems rushed...(it is). But I hope you still like it anyways. If it's not, neaislove, then just message me and I'll write something else!!!


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